There was a long stretch of time where I wanted to create videos — and couldn’t.
Every idea came to a halt at the same point: the script.
Writing a YouTube script felt like asking my brain to dump everything it knew, organize it perfectly, and perform — all at once. It required too much clarity upfront. Too much structure before I even knew what I was trying to say.
I kept looking for better systems to fix that.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that the problem wasn’t my system — it was my starting point.
YouTube is full of people telling you this is the best system. Then someone else comes along and says that one is better. Follow it closely enough, they say, and the results will come.
For me, that fed straight into perfectionism.
I wasn’t avoiding the work. I was stuck because I felt like I had to get it right before I could begin. If I just followed the system exactly the way this one YouTuber did, maybe then I’d be allowed to start. Over time, I told myself, I’d figure out my own style. I’d make it better. More captivating.
But that “later” never came.
Everyone also says you need to write for an audience. That the riches are in the niches.
The honest truth is: I didn’t know who I was writing for yet.
I didn’t know my niche. I didn’t know my direction. I didn’t even know what kind of channel I wanted to build. What I did know was that I had thoughts — and nowhere for them to go.
So I stopped trying to solve everything at once.
Instead of writing scripts, I started writing.
Word by word. Thought by thought.
No hooks. No structure pressure. No imaginary audience watching over my shoulder. Just getting the words out of my head and onto the page.
For me, the solution was simple: write — and hit publish.
I trusted that direction would come later. That clarity would show up after motion, not before it. I’d see what worked. I’d learn what didn’t. Slowly, I’d chisel out something that felt like mine.
Not perfect.
Just Real.